Il Trielo
by unannehmlichkeiten
Summary: Who will reach the treasure first? Kusanagi, Togusa, or Gouda? They'll do anything and everything to find it, make no mistake! Bonus points if you can tell which classic movie inspired this fic. Hint: Ennio Morricone. Please Review!
1. Chapter 1

Scraps of old newspapers blew across the dark, damp street, caught in the pull of the blustering wind that still plagued the city after its denizens retired their bustling for the night. There was a rapid splashing as frantic footfalls worked their course down the narrow back alley, followed by another set of equally quick, yet more sure heel beats.

Motoko Kusanagi was in hot pursuit. Her usual service outfit and vest was covered by a long black trench coat; this wasn't for Public Security Section 9. This was a personal mission for only herself. The thug ran as fast as he could, stumbling over debris as he fled for his life.

He had been in the bar, minding his own business, eyeing up this woman across the bar, when all of a sudden she got up and came over. Unusually good luck, but bad luck at the same time.

"Hey there… I hear you've got something I want…"

"Wh-what are you after, exactly?" He was usually good with women, but this one seemed so overbearing. It was uncomfortable, but also seductive.

"There's stuff inside your head. And I want it. Bad." She led him around the back of the bar, and pulled out a cord from the back of her neck. If he hadn't been carrying some sensitive information, he would have given in to her seductive requests. But, given what he was trying to keep under wraps, he figured one good time wasn't worth the risk. While she was shedding her trenchcoat, he'd bolted.

Drawing her Seburo M-5 and aiming precisely, she took a clear chunk out of the thug's ankle, causing him to fall face-first into the pavement. Taking this chance, Motoko dove on top of him, and shoved a cord from the back of her neck into his own.

She began to dive his memories, but something peculiar was happening. No matter where in the brain she went, a little ghostly figure of the man's face followed her, trying to plead with her even as she was inside his head.

"Please, what do you want?"

"Do you want to tell me where Kuroki hid those brain cases, or do I have to find out myself?"

She penetrated another barrier, and browsed casually through the man's memory. It was far too easy; Motoko was accustomed to military grade attack barriers, not these paper walls.

"It's…right there…" The man's residual image pointed to a file to Motoko's left, which she accessed and stored. She retracted the cord, and stood upright. The man began to come to his senses, and looked up; he realized how beautiful his assailant was, and a smile crossed his face. Motoko looked down on the smile with contempt, and drew her weapon again.

"I'm afraid I can't let anyone else know about this secret of ours…" She leapt back out of the range of the spatter, and fired.

Not far away, in the more aesthetically pleasing business district, a rather odd-looking man locked up the front door of his agency's office building. Sure, there was round-the-clock surveillance and security systems, and a full complement of armed guards, (all high-functioning prosthetic-bodied,) but it gave him a sense of purpose to lock the most obvious entrance. It also made him proud, that he was hard-working enough to be the last one out of the building, even if it was just because he had little to go home to. As he removed the key, he felt a strange feeling, and turned around, holding his hands out innocently as he spoke softly:

"Gentlemen… There's no need to be rude, now is there?" The three hooligans staggered back as they saw the right side of the man's face for the first time; it was stretched back, mauled by some twist of fate. Yes, Kazundo Gouda was a strange and a strange-looking man, but not a man who was totally unprepared for this circumstance. With little excess movement he drew a small pistol from his suit coat, and shot all three in quick succession. The tiny weapon made little noise, but managed to at least incapacitate the three as Gouda strode away to his car, confident that he was finally in the clear. They may have 'accidentally' leaked information to the public that he was involved with the individual eleven, but it hadn't been too bad so far. He could defend himself against these vigilantes for a while yet.

Gouda's car sped along as he semi-drove. It was so ridiculously easy to drive these things, Gouda was able to dive the net and drive well at the same time. Looking through some scans of newspapers he'd clipped, he became distracted for a moment, and didn't notice the large complement of vehicles following him. He minimized the net from his field of vision in just enough time to see the huge vans pulling up on either side of his low compact car.

Nearly a mile away, Saito flipped up the Hawkeye lens over his left eye, and linked up to the satellite. It was an easy shot now, and once he'd gotten the green light, he sent it with a smirk. The monstrous round rocketed through the air, and pierced both left tires of Gouda's vehicle. Once the hit was confirmed, he spoke via the net to his partners.

"There you go, tires pierced. Just remember, I'm getting a share of that reward now."

"Yeah, I guess we owe you one," remarked Batou as he flung the wheel of the van to the left. They weren't going to let Gouda's car spin off the road, and lose him. The bounty specifically instructed "alive only."

"So," asked Saito as the vans ground Gouda's car to a halt, "just when did we become bounty hunters, anyway?"

"I think it was when the major left."

"Togusa? How long have you been here?"

"Uh… Pretty much the whole time. Like always?"

"Oh. Huh. Well, good luck down there."

"Yeah, I'll try…" Togusa tightened the straps on his vest, and checked his Mateba. He was not going to get hurt this time. In fact, it was Section 9 that would be feeling the burn this time.

The vans' back hatches flew up, and the strike team piled out. Batou, Togusa, Bouma and a Tachikoma surrounded the car, all weapons on the driver's seat window. Batou punched out the cracked glass, and it became instantly apparent that there was no one inside.

"Wh…Where the hell did he go!? Uh…" Batou's rage was quieted as Togusa jammed a large half-moon shaped block into the back of the tall guy's neck, incapacitating his large muscle groups for a few minutes. Togusa snuck back and did the same to Bouma, laying him on the ground gently and turning back to the Tachikoma.

"Pick up the car, eh? I'd bet he's hiding out down there."

"Um… Ok, Mr. Togusa," chirped the tank, if hesitantly. Sure enough, there lay Gouda, cowering under the wreckage, having escaped through a small hatch in the floor. Togusa picked up the surprised man, and tossed him lightly into the Tachikoma. Gouda poked his head out, but ducked down again as Togusa leapt in after him.

"Scoot over, Gouda. These things aren't built for two, you know."

"What are you doing?"

"Can't have them take you in, now can I? I'll keep you safe, don't you worry."

"Oh. Alright." Still fatigued from his accident, Gouda quickly fell into a light sleep as Togusa negotiated the think tank through the city.

A few minutes later, the paralyzing blocks gave up the ghost, and Batou stood up, followed by Bouma. They looked around, and found a small note on the pavement. Batou held it up, and his cyber brain processed the barcode printout message.

'Section 9: I'm tired of you guys treating me like some damn rookie when you know full well I can handle myself in the field. (And in court, for that matter!) So I've decided to take this bounty for myself, if you don't mind. I'll be back eventually, but there's something I've got to take care of first.

-Togusa

PS: Batou, now that we're not all friendly anymore, you know on account of all the betrayal, I think I can tell you this without feeling awkward. I've always thought that ponytail of yours looked sort of dumb.'

"What kind of… Chief! What are we supposed to do now?"

"Cut it off, I suppose. I don't see any reason to keep it, personally."

"About the bounty, Chief!"

"Oh. Well, there'll be more bounties around. No sense staying put on this one. Gouda wasn't even very valuable, compared."

"Compared to what, Chief?"

"Well, let's see… There was an old war veteran named Kuroki, fought in non-nuclear World War 3. They say he recovered the brain cases from all the casualties in his unit, and hid them away somewhere. The brain cases still contain all the information from his squad mates' memories, things the government wants to keep quiet at all costs."

"What kind of memories?"

"I don't even know, unfortunately. It's that well kept. But from the right buyer, you could expect to fetch… 250 Billion American Dollars?"

"So where's this Kuroki guy?"

"Missing. Most people believe he's out in Siberia somewhere, waiting for the secret to die with him."

"Damn."

The Tachikoma sped along the superhighway, and Gouda slowly awoke from his sleep, only to find that he could not see! The humming of the Tachikoma's engines was all that could be heard, but Gouda knew he was in for something bad. He struggled, but found his hands bound behind his back, and his feet wrapped together likewise.

"What are you doing? Where are you taking me?"

"Where you belong. Where we both belong. Trust me, I won't let them kill you. Not yet, anyway."

"What are you talking about?"

"Alright. Here's the plan…"

A myriad of angry voices came within earshot, and Gouda became more tense.

"Who are they, Togusa?"

"The people. They want you something awful, for what you did." The hatch on the Tachikoma flipped up, and what felt to Gouda like hundreds of hands reached in and grabbed him, hoisting him out far too easily. He felt a rope about his neck, and the blindfold was torn away.

A crowd of people looked up at him with furious faces, shouting various vulgarities at him as they seethed. Gouda was genuinely afraid, but realized that he needed to regain his composure if he was to get out of this alive.

"Gentlemen… A lynch mob is a bit archaic, isn't it? Surely you could have simply shot me?" One of the mob stepped up onto the makeshift gallows, and spoke to him while the crowd quieted down.

"We put the price on your head, Gouda. The people were tired of you playing around with our heads! We got you brought here to kill you, and now we're gonna enjoy it real slow."

"Togusa! This isn't how you said things would happen, Togusa!" Togusa stepped out from the shadows, a smirk on his face.

"Oh this is exactly how I wanted it to go. Now I get the whole bounty. Speaking of which…?" He held out his hand, and one of the mob handed over a card, which Togusa pocketed. "Thank you. And now Gouda, farewell for now."

"Togusa! Get back here!"

The crowd closed in around Gouda, who continued to yell as they prepared to knock away the platform's trapdoor. As the preparations were made, Togusa fell back to a safe distance. He was only going to get one shot with this… He pulled out an assault rifle, and aimed it towards the gallows below. The high powered scope at this range made it all too easy.

The crowd gathered around, and one took up a large drive shaft. The older man swung a wide arc around to the left, and knocked out the block holding the trapdoor up. Gouda dropped a foot, and jerked to a halt as the noose caught his throat. Togusa spoke to the Tachikoma nearby via the net, saying:

"Tachikoma, you ready?"

"In position, Mr. Togusa!"

"Right. God, stop squirming, Gouda. Take it like a man…" He lined up the swinging rope, waited, then fired a short burst. The second shot pierced the rope, and the third grazed one edge. The strands began to fray, and finally snapped under Gouda's heft. The Tachikoma disengaged its optical camouflage, leapt into the air above the crowd, and shot a wire out around Gouda. Bringing the man back into the safety of the main tank pod, the Tachikoma shot out several more wires to the front, and sprang away over the rooftops. Togusa threw down the weapon, and followed.

"Got him inside?"

"Sure do, Mr. Togusa!"

"And he's alive?"

"Let me check… Aaagh! Mr. Togusa!"

"What's wrong?"

"I think he might be dead!" "Why?" "Well, humans tend to become incontinent when they die, don't they?"

"They do, but… Did you check for vitals yet?"

"Not yet. Wait… He's alive!"

"Good thing, too. We're gonna make a lot of money, the two of us…"

"Mr. Togusa, isn't this against the law?" "The law isn't at play here, Tachikoma."

"Oh…"


	2. Chapter 2

Gouda finally felt consciousness re-enter his body, and opened his eyes with a groggy moan. His eyes were still glazed over, but he could see Togusa standing over him, holding out a hand. Gouda reached up, but brushed the offer aside clumsily and laid back again.

"Ugh… what happened back there? … What's that horrible odor?"

"You had a little accident back there. You must've been pretty scared, Gouda."

"Perhaps if you hadn't let them try to kill me, I'd-"

"If I hadn't handed you over, you'd never get this…" Togusa held out a card, and Gouda took it; he examined it front and back.

"The money?"

"Half of it anyway. This is how it's gonna work from now on. There are enough separate bounties on your head to keep this going for quite some time, if you're up for it."

"And if I should refuse?"

"Then maybe I miss the next shot, and you get what's coming to you for once."

"How long are you going to keep this up?"

"Well, there're five other groups that want you… how about five more times?"

"And once it's over, I go free?"

"Maybe. Depends…"

"I see…"

And so it happened that Togusa kept Gouda in his employ, bringing him in succession to each organization that had put out the crude warrants. Each time Gouda was conveniently saved by a lone invisible gunman, and carried away by a strange spider-like machine. Togusa brought Gouda in to four of the groups in question over the course of a week, and was preparing to collect the money one last time. In the Tachikoma, Gouda suddenly spoke up, voice raspy from stress and rope-burn.

"Togusa, are you really going to let me down this time?"

"Maybe. This is the last group that's after you, isn't it?"

"Yes… And you can't collect any more money for my head after this…"

"But why not take full price this time? Seems like the logical thing to do in my position."

"Wha… Please, don't!"

"Tell you what-" Togusa brought the Tachikoma to a halt, and flipped up the hatch. The sound of a bustling market and pale sunlight drifted into the pod, and Gouda shielded his eyes.

"Gouda, you get out there and spend all that money you made off this deal. I don't care how you spend it, just be back here in five hours, alright?"

"…" His heart sank, knowing that this meant he would not escape this round of Togusa's game. Still, better to spend the money than die without having done so. He clambered out, and walked off.

"Have fun!"

Gouda looked back over his shoulder once, then walked away quickly. Already, separation from his captor was making plans form in his racing mind.

'Anywhere I want, eh? Well, maybe I'll have a surprise waiting for you when I get back, Togusa! I'll show you…' It was at that point that Gouda realized something peculiar: he had been carrying his sidearm with him the entire time, in the exact same holster, and yet had never thought to use it against his captor. How odd… Still, he was not going to be under-armed for this. He strode over into a part of the market he knew well from his investigations, and took a left.

The dark, dusty back alley reminded him of something out of a middle-eastern locale, but he knew better; this was the new face of Japan, but he didn't have to like it, he supposed. The shops that lined the street were all conducting some sort of questionable business under the table, but there was one that Gouda was particularly interested in at that point. His people had performed a flawless sting attempt on this guy before, but the man had gone on vacation and taken all the goods with him when they tried to bust him. Gouda knew that this guy would probably have moved back soon thereafter, and was luckily correct.

The shopkeeper staggered back as he saw this odd customer enter; a facially deformed man in a dirty, raggedy business suit was nothing he was used to, even in this district!

"Excuse me sir, but I'm looking to peruse the merchandise…"

"It's all here, man. What in particular?" He swept his hand over glass cases full of watches, jewelry, lighters, small knives, and other various wares.

"I'd like to peruse the _other_ merchandise, sir…"

"Oh. I see. Hold on just a minute." The shopkeeper flipped a switch, and a small panel of the wooden wall behind the counter slid aside, revealing a small room stocked full of various small arms and munitions. "So, what exactly are you after then? A handgun, I'm guessing?"

"Yes… Something with quite a kick; do you carry Seburo?"

"I've got a Seburo M-5 right here." He laid out the fearsome handgun on the counter, and Gouda picked it up.

"This is not a street-legal handgun, is it?"

"No way, that's strictly government issue, man."

"I see. Can some…alterations be performed?"

"Sure thing, but on this one, it's not gonna be cheap."

"I'm aware of that…"

"Right… So, what are you looking to change?"

"Well, this barrel is just hideous. Too thin, too plain. Can you give it a thicker feel?"

"I've got an IMI Desert Eagle barrel-slide assembly; same caliber, polygonal profile."

"Excellent. Does it come in chrome finish?"

"The only finish I've got, man."

"Fine. Now just blacken the sights, give it a match class hammer, and tighten the trigger pressure by fifty percent."

"You really know what you're after, huh? Alright, should take me about ten minutes. You can look around in the meantime, if you want."

"I'll do that, thank you." The shopkeeper set to work, disassembling the handgun to make the modifications desired. Gouda took a quick look around the shop, running his hand along the shelves as he went.

"If you see anything else you're after, just bring it up to the counter, and I'll add it to the charge."

"Right…" Gouda quickened his pace, and began picking items off the shelves. He took down several boxes of ammunition, a small chest rig, several MRE rations, canteens, and some heavy tactical clothing, which reminded him of the outfits Section 9 wore. He piled it up on the counter, and the shopkeeper turned around with the modified weapon in hand.

It was a beautiful thing, the customized Seburo M-5; the shine of the chrome-plated barrel and slide gave it a flair that Gouda appreciated. He took it from the shopkeeper, and also requested five spare magazines.

"Well man, you're ready for something big now."

"To be sure. Now, how much do I owe?"

"Well, let me ring up this stuff…"

"You know what? I'm afraid I'm short at the moment, but you don't mind, do you?" The shopkeeper spun about, and found the muzzle of Gouda's new weapon right between his eyes.

"Uh… Not at all! Go ahead, I don't mind…"

"A wise choice. Now, just stand by while I get all this gear together, won't you? Just take this for a moment…" Gouda put the handgun's grip into the clerk's hands, and wrapped his finger around the trigger. He stood there, frozen in place, gun to his head as Gouda changed into the new outfit, and loaded up the ammo and supplies. "Careful with that thing, now. Always treat it as if it's loaded… Alright, let's have it." Gouda took the weapon back, and walked out casually, holstering it as he left.

Outside, Gouda bought a few newspapers, and took a seat at a small bench near the market square to await Togusa's return. Four hours or so later, and Gouda had cut out all the articles that interested him and stacked the clippings neatly by the folded papers. He loaded the articles into the front pouch of his chest rig, and stood up to face his captor. The Tachikoma in the middle of the market square was being rather forward, exploring the stalls and picking up merchandise, barging through crowds and frightening children as Togusa looked around, trying to find his prisoner.

"Gouda! Where are you? Don't make us come find you…"

"Here I am, as requested." Gouda had appeared out of the crowd directly in front of the bright blue tank, bowing courteously in resignation.

"Gouda, you…bought a trench coat? Isn't it a little hot for that?"

"Oh, I've always wanted to wear one, and it will make me look more sinister for the people that want me dead. I've got to go down in style, haven't I?"

"Sure. Just get in the tank, ok?"

"No problem." Gouda got in, but just as Togusa was about to give the Tachikoma instructions, he felt a pressure in the small of his back.

"Gouda, you son of a-"

"No need to be vulgar, Togusa. You shouldn't have let me go free for any amount of time. I was bound to come up with something. Now, hand over that precious Mateba. Unless of course you want to paint this tank's interior with your innards." The Tachikoma's heart leapt at that statement.

"A chance to be…different? From all the other Tachikomas? And it couldn't be synched through data transfer? Do it, do it, do it! … Uh…sorry, Mr. Togusa…"

"Fine. Here."

"Excellent. Now we can set off, I suppose."

"To where?"

"The open sea, Togusa… This tank can float, can't it?" The Tachikoma's voice responded hesitantly: "I think so…?"

"Well then I'm driving." Gouda took the helm, and guided the Tachikoma to the shore.


End file.
